


Phantasm

by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)



Series: Paramnesia [3]
Category: Dream Team - Fandom, Dreamwastaken, Four Muffinteers, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, dreamnotfound - Fandom, gream
Genre: (literally), (you'll see what i mean), Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Arguing, Conflict, Contracts, Deja Vu, Demons, Determination (Undertale), Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic, Mania, Nightmares, Obsession, Protectiveness, Time Loop, Time Travel, again it's mostly angst tho, not happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pep_Pizza/pseuds/PeppDream
Summary: “Are you sure, Dream?” he asks very carefully, but not in a mean way. “This time you’re sure?”George reaches for Dream’s hand and squeezes, offering a reassuring nod. Dream’s eyes look soft, like he’s recalling something sad. "For sure,” he promises. “I care about George very much.”“...then good,” Sapnap huffs with a relieved smile, his shoulders relaxing. “You guys are my best friends, so… I’m trusting you two to take good care of each other, okay?”-And then they all lived happily ever after, because it's all over, right?Right....unless?
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnotfound - Relationship
Series: Paramnesia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119716
Comments: 104
Kudos: 139





	1. Go In a Loop

**Author's Note:**

> Note: this is the third part of my Paramnesia series!! If you're new here, you gotta read the first two parts in order to understand this one :)
> 
> For those of you that thought this series was over... welp. Surprise??!? lmao  
> If you've ever seen MM's Rebellion movie, you may know where this is going . __.
> 
> This one took me a little longer to get out since I wanted to get the structure & ideas solid before posting anything official (and even still it's still sort of a mess ahaha), but here we are!! This is officially going to be the last fic of this trilogy (wow I never thought I'd see the day where I got to use that word, that's so pog), so I hope you enjoy it!~

“What happened to the other guy?”

They’re back at George’s place. Dream is manning the kitchen, still not quite trusting of George’s skills (and honestly, George thinks that’s a fair assessment).

Dream looks confused at his question. “What do you mean?”

“At that second party,” George explains, suddenly feeling awkward about bringing it up, “There was, um, that guy you had pinned against the wall…”

“Ohhh,” Dream tilts his head, “You mean Fundy?”

George winces a little. “Um, I guess?”

“You don’t have to worry, George,” Dream grins, “There was never anything between us. I’ve already apologized to him and he’s moved on, found some other guy.”

“Oh.”

“Why, you jealous?” Dream snickers, much to George’s embarrassment. “If you want, I can pin you against a wall too—”

“Th-that’s not it,” George chuckles shyly, trying in vain to push down his blush. “I was just… curious, I guess. Like, if it’s a pattern, or something…?”

Dream snorts, spatula scraping along the pan. “Did you know,” he says, “I’m not actually a player?”

George’s brain comes to an awkward halt. “You… huh? But Sapnap said…?”

“I _have_ been in a lot of relationships,” Dream admits. “So Sapnap isn’t wrong. But, well, he still kind of _is_ wrong, because people look at me and just like to assume things, you know? And sometimes I just don’t have the energy to go correcting everybody.”

George takes a step forward so they’re standing side-by-side. “If you had the energy, what would you say?”

Dream hums thoughtfully. “I don’t approach others,” is his answer. “Others approach me. They come for all sorts of reasons: looks, money, a challenge to conquer. Fixing their intentions wasn’t an option either — they used to break up with me first, when things didn’t go their way.”

“They _used_ _to_ …?”

“But I dump their asses first now,” Dream grins. “Guess I’ve learned my lesson, though it’s unfortunately where my _player_ name comes from. But it is what it is.”

“Are you going to break up with me?” George teases, wrapping his arms around Dream’s torso so that he can lean his head on his boyfriend’s back. When Dream chuckles, George can feel his body vibrating under his arms.

“Do you want me to?” Dream whispers. There’s something wistful in the way he says it, that it makes George wonder what he’s thinking.

“No.”

“Then,” Dream turns around, presses a kiss to the top of George’s head, “I won’t.”

* * *

“Do I even deserve you?” Dream murmurs into his skin, and George giggles at the feeling of his boyfriend’s breath fanning across his neck.

“Dream, that _tickles_.”

“How did I even catch someone like you?” Dream whines, completely ignoring George’s protests. “A cute, colorblind magnet for danger—”

“That’s not even my _fault_ though—?”

“What did I even do to earn your valuable affection?”

George rolls his eyes at Dream’s dramatic antics. “Oh, I don’t know— maybe go back in time a million times?”

Dream chuckles at the statement. “Oh sure,” he teases, “not because you think I’m hot?”

“N- _no_ ,” George blushes crimson in denial, only leading Dream to wheeze. “You’re very, um, _not_ hot.”

“Very convincing,” Dream mocks cheekily. “I mean, come on! You didn’t even _know_ about the time loops until a couple days ago, but you’ve been following me around for way longer than that—”

“ _Me_ following you around?” George huffs incredulously, poking Dream in the chest. “ _You_ were the one that kept popping up everywhere I went—!”

Dream cuts him off by pressing a kiss to his lips. “You’re right,” he amends, grinning at George’s no doubt bright red face, “it was the going back in time thing. Of course.”

“ _Wow_ , you sure switched sides fast,” George deadpans, riling a giggle out of his boyfriend. “Can we really even give you credit for that, though? _Bad_ was the one who made the time loops happen.”

There’s a pregnant pause in the air. Dream is staring at him, a weird look on his face.

“...what?” George raises an eyebrow, wondering if it was too soon to bring back the subject. “What’s the matter?”

But Dream only shakes his head, burrows his face back into George’s hair. “Mm-hm,” is all he says. “It’s nothing.”

* * *

“It’s almost like you _live_ here now,” George notes from his position on the couch. Dream has been chilling at his apartment for almost a couple days now, sharing his bed and eating his food and using his kitchen. The transition had been so… _natural_.

George wasn’t upset, exactly — Dream made up for his prolonged stay with his cooking, buying groceries, and keeping the place tidy (which was already more than George could ever accomplish). Because of Dream, George hardly has to leave the house, even.

“Does it bother you?” Dream asks, already slipping on his shoes at the front door, and George shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.” And on the spur of the moment, “Can I come with you?”

Dream pauses, snickers, “To go shopping?”

“...yes?”

“You don’t need to,” Dream shrugs, already half-way out the door. “It’ll be quick.”

“But I want to come,” George insists, scrambling off the couch to grab his shoes. “I just want some fresh air — haven’t been outside in a while.”

“George…”

“What? Is this about me dying again?” George sighs at Dream’s conflicted expression. “Don’t lie, Dream — you know I can tell when you do.”

“Maybe a little,” he mumbles, tugging George to his side. George smiles a little at the action, knowing his cheeks are probably pink with shyness.

“Look, I’ll be _fine_ Dream. Remember the whole ‘it’s over now’ thing? You don’t have to worry about stuff like that anymore.”

“...Okay,” Dream nods. “Then… let’s go.”

* * *

“ _GEORGE!_ ”

George flinches at the call, turns away from the sun chips on the shelf. “ _What_ , Dream.”

“ _There_ you are,” Dream sighs, striding down the aisle. “I thought I lost you for a sec there.”

George rolls his eyes, says, “I was only gone for a _minute_. Can’t you have a little more faith in me?”

“I just care about you,” is Dream’s answer, but George knows that’s only half the answer.

“You’re so _overprotective_ ,” George huffs, turning his head away. Was he that helpless, that Dream felt the need to look over him even when the dangers surrounding him had gone?

“ _You’re_ so argumentative,” Dream fires back, but there’s no real bite to it. He only gently grabs George’s hand, asks, “Just stay by my side, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because, it worries me when you’re out of my sight. And when people worry, they get wrinkles.” Dream cocks a grin then (looking unfairly _hot_ while doing it, if George may add), asks, “You don’t want me to get wrinkles, do you?”

George pulls a face at Dream’s dumb reasoning before bursting into laughter. “Aw, Dreamie’s scared of looking old~” he giggles. Dream pulls an expression of mock offense at George’s conjecture, but after a squeeze of his hand, he breaks out into a grin as well.

“Only because I wouldn’t be hot anymore,” Dream jokes, pulling a dramatically fake sob, “And then my lovely Georgie would leave me…”

“H- _hey_ ,” George protests, pulling on Dream’s hand in pretend irritation, and his boyfriend chuckles. George’s chest grows warm from how beautiful it sounds. “Don’t call me that.”

“A- _ha!_ So you _admit_ you’d leave me if I got wrinkles—”

“What. _No_ —”

“I’m so heartbroken Georgie, how could you _do_ this to me—”

“You are _so_ dumb,” George grumbles, barely holding back a scowl. “Seriously, you’re so stupid.”

“You like me anyway,” Dream smirks, and at that, George lets out a breath of defeat.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “In love with a complete idiot.”

“A hot idiot?”

George’s cheeks sear bright pink. “Shut up.”

* * *

“You guys are _dating?_ ” Sapnap's jaw drops open, “And you’re _living_ together?”

The three of them had decided to meet up to catch Sapnap up on the stuff that’s happened (minus the time travel, because that sort of thing was just too crazy, and expecting a normal person to believe it would be crazy too). They had all met up at a coffee shop, and George had been ecstatic to find that there _were_ things Dream didn’t know about him. (Namely, that he likes his coffees half-coffee, half-milk. Dream had been hilariously confused by the preference.)

“Only because Dream won’t _leave_ ,” George remarks with pretend annoyance, but his act is interrupted with giggles when Dream presses a kiss to his cheek. 

Sapnap groans at their PDA. “Seriously, how long has this been going on for?”

“Couple days?” Dream shrugs, which causes George to snap his head over in panic.

“C-couple _weeks_ , he means,” George quickly corrects, trying to communicate with Dream that it’d be _very_ unlikely for two normal people to achieve what they have under normal circumstances. (And even for normal people, two weeks was _still_ incredibly short for the rate their relationship was progressing.) “Ever since that party you, uh, introduced us, Sapnap.”

“ _Ooooh~_ ” Sapnap hums knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows, “So that time when Dream drove you home from the second party, did you two do the, _you know_ —”

“N- _NO_ ,” George adamantly denies, blushing furiously. “NO, we did _not_.”

“Getting kind of defensive, aren’t we?” Sapnap chortles, looking way too smug for his own good.

“Come _onnn_ , who do you think I am?” Dream teases right back. “George is very important to me.”

That actually seems to be enough to make Sapnap think. “Are you sure, Dream?” he asks very carefully, but not in a mean way. “This time you’re sure?”

George knows why he’s asking. The warning Sapnap had given so long ago and the recent explanation Dream had offered revealed why Sapnap would feel a need to be concerned. Though it could be perceived as rude, George knew he was only trying to be a good friend. 

George reaches for Dream’s hand and squeezes, offering a reassuring nod. Dream’s eyes look soft, like he’s recalling something sad. "For sure,” he promises. “I care about George very much.”

“...then good,” Sapnap huffs with a relieved smile, his shoulders relaxing. “You guys are my best friends, so… I’m trusting you two to take good care of each other, okay?”

“Of course,” Dream replies, so genuinely that it makes George’s insides heat up.

“Just be sure to invite me to your wedding,” Sapnap whistles, and George might've choked on his coffee. And then Dream goes on to worry over him but there’s a huge smile on his face, and George is no doubt beet red, but he’s smiling too, laughing through the tears forming at the corner of his eyes as he enjoys this. Just _this_ , the three of them sitting here together, everything perfect and headed in the right direction.

Because from this point onward, they were only headed forwards.

* * *

“Dream?” George mumbles, eyes blinking wearily. It’s in the middle of the night, and the spot on the bed next to him is empty. George must’ve inadvertently woken up without Dream by his side, having become too used to the heat of his boyfriend cuddled up next to him.

A flicker of movement appears, and as George’s eyes adjust, he sees near the doorway what he thinks is a mop of blonde hair and the back of a black hoodie. “Dream?” George calls again, but he doesn’t respond, merely slips away past the door. _Did he not hear me?_ George wonders vaguely, his brain still sort of muddled from sleep. 

The door suddenly creaks back open. “George?” Dream appears from the doorway, an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Hnng maybe,” George mumbles, not wanting to admit his newfound dependence on Dream’s presence to sleep. “How’d you change clothes so fast?”

The mattress dips. “Sorry, what? You said that a bit quietly.”

“How’d you—” George yawns, mumbles the rest of his sentence. Man, he’s too tired for this shit. George burrows back into Dream, a sigh of contentment leaving him as he settles back into Dream’s scent. “Love you,” his words come out muffled, and Dream’s body shakes a little with laughter, his voice fond as he replies,

“Goodnight George.”

* * *

“I’ve never seen you wear a hoodie before.”

“It’s not really my style,” Dream shrugs. “Like, they look good on _you_ , but. I feel kind of stuffy in them, so.

That was _not_ the response George expected. “What’s so bad about hoodies?” He finds himself defending, pulling his hands into sleeves to make sweater paws as he bats at Dream’s arm in demonstration. “They’re soft and comfortable!”

Dream chuckles at George’s antics, wrapping him into a tight hug. “I agree,” he coos, “You’re so _soft_ and _cute_ when I cuddle you~”

George lets out an indignant noise at Dream’s teasing, his face no doubt seared a bright cherry red. “Well, if you don’t _like_ them, then why were you wearing one?”

Dream frowns, looks down at himself as if to check. “I’m not though?”

“I don’t mean _now_ ,” George rolls his eyes. “I’m talking about last night.”

Dream only looks more confused. “I… what?”

At Dream’s response, George starts to doubt what he saw. “...Nevermind,” he shakes his head. It was only the back he saw after all, and in the dark it’d be harder to see, not to mention that George was colorblind... well, whatever. The point was it didn’t matter. “I must’ve seen wrong.”

Dream looks mildly concerned but he doesn’t push it, merely poking George’s cheek with a finger. “What do you want for breakfast?”

George gently slaps Dream’s hand away. “Let’s go to Roxanne?”

Dream looks surprised. “Really? You want to?”

George nods. He misses the place, with its vacant atmosphere and cozy, orange glow. “As long as you’re not against it.”

Dream ponders quietly, his thumb flitting across the back of George’s hand. “Okay,” he eventually says, pulling on a smile. “I’m fine with it.”

“ _And_ ,” George emphasizes, ”we can _actually_ order breakfast for… well, _breakfast._ ”

A mischievous look enters Dream’s eyes. “Hey, what if we got _lunch_ items instead—“

“Dream, _no_ ,” George laughs.

“Aw, come _on_ George! Think about it, it could be our thing where we just never order the meal corresponding to the time of day—”

George giggles awkwardly. “Dream, _why—_ ”

“—and every time we go there, the waitresses will give us a funny look and wonder what’s wrong with us—”

“That’s _embarrassing,_ Dream! What next, we’re going to head over during the _evening_ and order breakfast too?” At the increasingly excited look on Dream’s face, George gets the feeling he’s only added fuel to the fire. Godammit.

“You’re a genius,” Dream wheezes, pressing a kiss to George’s lips (and maybe George’s brain short-circuits a little), tugging him off the bed, “Come on, let’s go!”

* * *

George hadn’t been feeling too well by the time they got back from the restaurant. Some light arguing and a quick temperature check later, Dream confirmed that he had the beginnings of a fever. “Probably had something to do with standing in the rain while consoling someone during a breakdown,” George had joked, earning him a light-hearted punch to his arm.

“Just stay put,” Dream suggests, nuzzling his nose against the palm of George’s hand. He was going to head out to fetch some things that would help with the fever. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay, “George mumbles, feeling sort of helpless but nice to be looked after. Dream had wrapped him up in a bunch of blankets, and he felt nothing short of a cozy burrito. “Love you.”

Dream smiles. “When I’m back, you can expect a bowl of chicken soup,” he promises.

Then Dream is gone. George listens attentively, hears the clinking of keys and the front door opening then shutting. Alone now, George shuts his eyes and tries to outthink the slight headache forming in his head. Without Dream as a distraction by his side, the symptoms of the fever feel far worse.

“He should’ve at least said it back,” a familiar voice suddenly appears.

George snaps his eyes awake and stares. At his bedside, sitting in George’s gaming chair with his legs crossed quite comfortably, is Dream. “What?” George blinks, not quite understanding what he’s seeing.

“He should’ve said he loves you back,” Dream answers, completely misinterpreting George’s confusion. He tilts his head, and the mask tilts with him. “This is the second time he’s done this, isn’t it?”

Bewilderment (and perhaps slight panic) swamps George’s brain. He sits up and rubs his eyes, but Dream is still there, real as ever. Is he hallucinating? George feels like there’s a couple things he should be asking, maybe something like: _Didn’t you just leave a moment ago?_ or _Why are you wearing a mask?_

Instead, maybe because George isn’t in his right mind right now, he asks, “I thought you said you don’t like hoodies?”

Black-hoodie Dream scoffs. “You’re joking, right?”

“What? How am _I_ the one joking?”

“You saw me yesterday,” Dream smiles (or, double smiles? His mask is smiling too), propping his head onto his fist. “You can’t seriously be telling me you’ve already forgotten?”

George’s brain hurts. “Are you real?” he mumbles, pinching his forehead with his fingers. George’s fever must be getting pretty bad, if he was starting to have visions of fake mask-wearing versions of his boyfriend. “Do I miss you so much that I’m starting to make you up?”

But fake Dream only chuckles. Even his laugh sounds the same. “I wouldn’t really consider myself a Dream,” he muses, his lips taking on an amused twitch. “We’re linked, sure, but that’s not what you should call me.”

“Then, what should I...?”

“Oh, I don’t have a name,” the apparition grins. “But since humans are a fan of antithesis, you may refer to me as a Nightmare.”

George's mind is racing, his face no doubt pale from fright due to the appearance of the strange apparition before him that was both like Dream and simultaneously _not_ Dream. “Who _are_ you?”

“I just told you,” Nightmare replies, shaking his head like he thinks George is an idiot. “You’re really as dumb as they come, huh?”

“I don’t mean your name,” George sputters, feeling awfully defenseless in his bed, “I mean... what are you? Why do you look like Dream?”

“I’m not another version of him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Well, there goes his first theory down the drain. “Then my imagination,” George tries next. That has to be it. But Nightmare shakes his head again. 

“Wrong, wrong,” he chides playfully, wagging his finger. “I’m very real.”

“Can’t you just tell me?” George complains, “And stop making me guess?”

Nightmare puckers his lips in thought, and George realizes: though he may look like Dream, the two are fundamentally very different. The real Dream is snarky but well-mannered, serious and gentle, always a little tense. Nightmare, on the other hand, is incredibly lax and almost childish, swinging one of his legs over the arm of the chair like a pendulum, twirling a curl of hair around his finger as he tuts disappointedly.

“It’s honestly all quite complex,” Nightmare pouts. “But in simplest terms, I am a concentrated form manifested by Dream’s power.”

“Dream’s... _power?_ What does that _mean?_ ”

Nightmare giggles, spinning circles in George’s chair with his legs up in the air. George is half worried he might break it. “Oh, some of us are born heroes, and the rest of us are born side characters. You know how it is, right? Certain souls are just destined for more greatness than others, and always will be.” Cue a dramatic sigh. “It’s so tragic, seriously. But this doesn’t apply to you, does it, George? Haha! You’re so _lucky_ George! _So_ lucky!”

“What the hell are you _talking_ about?” George squints, feeling more confused than ever. What did this have anything to do with Nightmare’s sudden appearance? “Are you dangerous?”

Nightmare’s mask raises an unamused eyebrow at the question. “No! Honestly, I’d say I’m quite helpful.” At George’s doubtful expression, he raises a finger. “Just listen up — I’m offering you a warning.”

“A warning…?”

A slow grin stretches across Nightmare’s face. “Contrary to what you believe, George… it’s _not_ over yet.”

It takes a couple seconds for George to understand, and when he does, his eyes widen with disbelief. “You don’t mean…?”

Nightmare only shrugs, says, “Why don’t you give Bad a visit and find out?”

* * *

George knows he has no reason to believe Nightmare’s words. The creature had been vague and unhelpful in his answers, and he gave off an aura of someone untrustworthy and risky. Even still, the possibility of the warning being true couldn’t be left uninvestigated. The least George could do was give Bad a visit and make one last confirmation, right?

The next morning, George pries himself from Dream’s arms and climbs out of bed early. He’s still sick, he knows, but his condition is significantly better compared to how he felt last night, and he can at least walk without falling over. As quietly as possible, George grabs his keys and leaves the apartment. This venture wouldn’t take long, and hopefully he’d get back before Dream wakes up, and it’d be like nothing had ever happened.

This was, of course, assuming no new information would arise from talking to Bad. George was pretty sure that’d be the case. After all, how much could change from one simple visit?

Because George still can’t drive, he takes the bus to a stop a couple blocks from Bad’s house and walks the rest of the way. In record time he’s made it to the demon’s home, its signature grey willow still sitting out in front. George feels breathless, which is strange since he didn’t run. Sucking in a breath of confidence, George presses his thumb neatly against the doorbell.

The response doesn’t come as quickly as it did last time, and Bad isn’t the one who shows up either. “Hello?” a man with large eyes and an undercut shows up instead. “May I help you?”

“Hey,” George waves awkwardly. “You’re Skeppy right?”

“Wait, _what?!_ How do you know my name?”

“Bad mentioned you before,” George quickly explains. “I’m actually here to see him — is he home right now?”

“Uh, yeah… give me a sec.” Skeppy turns from the doorway, yells, “Hey _Bad!_ There’s a guy looking for you!”

“What?” Bad’s faint voice appears from behind the door, “Who is it?”

“I don’t _know_ , it’s just some _dude_.”

“I have a name—” George tries to speak up, but Skeppy seems so excited about just yelling in general that George’s complaints go completely covered over.

“And he knows my _name_ Bad, but I’ve literally never even _seen_ his face before—”

“What are you _talking_ about— Oh, _George!_ ” Bad’s face appears from behind Skeppy, a surprised expression on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Ohh,_ so you two know each other?” Skeppy nods like he’s just solved all the mysteries of the universe. Bad only rolls his eyes, as if he’s very used to this sort of behavior from his housemate.

“ _Yes_ , Skeppy, we know each other.”

“Okay good, I was almost scared he might be some stalker—”

“ _What_ , SKEPPY! George is _not_ a stalker.”

“I’m just being _careful_ Bad, jeez, no need to get so argumentative,” Skeppy replies, but there’s a shit-eating grin on his face that gives away he isn’t actually annoyed. After a bit more squabbling, Bad manages to push Skeppy away from the doorway to leave the two of them alone.

“You two seem close,” George comments.

“We’re—” Bad lets out a resigned sigh, “I just got used to him, I guess. Anyway, now that the muffin is gone… what did you come here for, George?”

“Oh, I just…” Now that George is put on the spot, he isn’t quite sure how to start. “There’s some things I’m still worried about, I think?”

“Oh?” A concerned look falls over Bad’s expression. “Are you and Dream doing okay?”

“Huh? Yeah yeah, we’re doing really well,” George answers. “I was thinking more like, on the subject of our past situation in general?”

A pause of confusion. “What do you mean?”

George knows he’s being vague, but he’s having a hard time thinking up ways to be more specific. “Just, I was wondering if we left anything out? Was there maybe something we overlooked?”

“No…? I don’t think so,” Bad raises an eyebrow. “My contract with Dream is still in place and officially recognized, so there shouldn’t be any relapsing of your near-death experiences.”

That’s what George had thought too. Then what had Nightmare been talking about? Had he perhaps been lying, just to try to rile a reaction out of George?

However, George decides to reiterate Bad’s points as one final check, just in case. “I’m no longer being targeted,” he counts on his fingers.

Bad nods. “Yes.”

“I won’t purposefully be put in danger anymore?”

“Mm-hm.”

“And it’s all over,” George breathes, relieved that Nightmare was wrong after all. “The time loops won’t happen ever again.”

But this time, Bad doesn’t nod. He’s looking at George kind of weirdly. “Um… what?”

George blinks. “Whut?” he repeats back. Why is Bad looking at him like that? “What did I say?”

“Er… I think you said ‘time loops’?”

“...Yeah? So?”

Bad is looking at George like he’s grown two heads. “What do you mean by _time loops?_ ”

There’s a sudden sinking realization, then, one of disbelief. “The time loops,” George persists anyway, because maybe if he clarifies it’ll make more sense and Bad will stop looking so confused. “You know, everytime I died Dream went back in time to save me?”

Bad’s eyes widen. “E-ex _cuse_ me?”

What? “ _What?_ Why do you…” George gulps, “look so surprised?”

“Sorry, wait,” Bad puts a hand up, like he’s processing shocking information, which doesn’t make any _sense_ , because Bad should know this. Then why does he seem so puzzled? “You said, when you _died_ … Dream went back in time?”

“Yeah?” George confirms, only growing more confused, “Was that not you?”

“Was _what_ not me?”

“The cause of the resets,” George mumbles, a strange prickle of discomfort crawling down his spine, “I thought you did them…”

“ _George_ ,” Bad’s jaw drops open, “Demons don’t _turn back time_ — that’d just be ridiculous, if we all went about doing our own muffiny time shenanigans. Are you _seriously_ trying to tell me that Dream’s been going back in time?”

George can’t believe his ears. He can’t believe Bad didn’t know. He’d assumed the contract covered it, assumed that the demon had been at least aware of it, yet to hear now that Bad had nothing to do with it? What was George supposed to think?

“George?”

“Y-yeah,” he manages, starting to feel an edge of panic. What could be behind it then, if it wasn’t Bad? “That’s what Dream says, at least — I don’t remember any of it myself.”

Bad looks doubtful. “Are you _sure_ he isn’t…”

“He’s _not_ lying,” George is quick to defend. “I’d know if he was.”

“I’m not _saying_ he is,” Bad reassures gently. “Just, maybe he’s a little confused? Are you sure he isn’t confusing time travel with prophetic dreams? The two can feel very similar.”

“Dream isn’t an _idiot_ ,” George replies, though not without a hint of uncertainty.

“Listen George,” Bad sighs, “Time travel is… it isn’t _real_. It’s _far_ too crazy and unpredictable — no one can just _control time_ as they wish. It’s not that easy.”

“The existence of demons is kind of crazy,” George tries to reason.

“Sure,” Bad agrees, “but compared to _time travel_ , George… you’d have to be _crazy powerful_ to pull off that sort of stuff. No normal entity can just… _continuously_ bend the passage of time _over and over_ again. Have you heard of the butterfly effect?” George nods. “So think of that, except magnified every time a time reversal happens. Do you know how much _chaos_ that’d wreck on everything?”

“But,” George tries, “We’re fine, aren’t we…?”

“Exactly,” Bad huffs. “So it _can’t_ be time travel, George. The universe would fall into shambles if that were the case.”

George feels torn. He _knows_ Dream wouldn’t lie, but Bad is also a creature not of this world, and would no doubt know better about this sort of stuff than any normal person. “Is it possible for you to check?” George attempts. “Is there any way to detect time travel, or search for its possible causes…?”

Bad purses his lips in thought. “I don’t know George… that’s hard for me to say. This is honestly my first time hearing of a situation like this, so I can’t promise anything.”

“I-I know, but… can you at least try?”

Bad scrutinizes George for a moment before asking, “Why bring this up now, George? Did you come here with the plan to discuss this?”

“N-no…”

“Then how did you know to come and ask?” Bad wonders. “What made you start worrying?”

George almost tells Bad about Nightmare, but… “Just a bad feeling,” is what he answers. “I can’t believe it was right.”

He can’t believe Nightmare was right.


	2. Inevitabilis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wish we could stay like this forever,” Dream mumbles.
> 
> “Forever?” George echoes.
> 
> “Well, in a metaphorical sense,” he amends upon further thought. “Not like, in a realistic one.”
> 
> George understands what Dream meant to say: _Not in a time loop sense._ “Yeah," he smiles, "I get it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit dialogue-heavy, but hopefully you still enjoy -u-

“ _GEORGE!_ ” Dream yells the moment he gets home. He’s right at the doorway as if he had been waiting for George’s return and he seems frustrated, a slightly crazed look in his eyes. “Why did you _leave?_ ”

George flinches at Dream’s tone. “I had something to check—”

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me where you were going?!” Dream growls, pinching the spot between his eyes, “When you just _disappeared_ from the bed George, what was I supposed to think? How was I was I supposed to look for you, when you didn’t even leave a note or a message or _anything_ —”

“You didn’t need to _look_ for me,” George mumbles, his irritation from his newfound information mixing with Dream’s complaints, “I’m perfectly fine on my own—”

“You have a _fever!_ ” Dream argues back, “You shouldn’t just be _walking around_ outside, what if something happened to you?” He brings up a hand as if to feel George’s forehead, but Nightmare’s words suddenly flash in George’s brain and George feels himself moving away.

“Do you love me?” he blurts, and the words are enough to cause a confused crease form between Dream’s eyebrows.

“What? I… yeah? George, what do you...”

“ _Do_ you, though?” George fires, “Or are you _obsessed_ with me?”

A strange look falls over Dream’s face. “George, of… of _course_ I love you. I would _die_ for you.”

“That’s– that’s not the same fucking thing,” George snaps. This had always been an issue — maybe a low-lying one, but it was still there nonetheless — and George had brushed it under the rug far too many times to not say anything about it now. “I don’t _want_ you to die for me, Dream. I don’t want you to be my bodyguard, my guardian, a _martyr_ , _any_ of those things. So stop treating me like I’m some… child!”

Dream seems at a loss for words. “I just… I can’t help it,” he mumbles. “I just worry about you. Can’t I worry about my boyfriend?”

“Well, just…” The hurt look on Dream’s face makes George’s annoyance die down some. “Just try to tone it down a little,” he settles on saying. This time when Dream reaches for his forehead, George lets him, and allows himself to be guided back to the bed. Though he doesn’t want to admit it, he _was_ beginning to feel the symptoms of his fever coming back, and being able to rest now was a definite relief.

“So… where did you go?” Dream attempts quietly, a concerned wrinkle in his brow, “If you’re willing to say.”

George lets out a long breath of air. “I went to Bad’s house.”

Dream’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. “Bad’s place?” he repeats. “Why?”

“The time loops,” George gets straight to the point, “Bad didn’t cause them.”

He expected a reaction: maybe a shocked jaw drop or a widening of Dream’s eyes. But Dream only tilts his head, sighs, “Yeah, I figured.”

George sits up, repeats in shock, “What do you _mean_ , you figured?”

“The way he responded to our questions,” Dream shrugs. “I don’t know, it ticked me off somehow. He just didn’t seem all that aware of the situation.”

“You _knew_ this,” George mutters quietly, “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I wasn’t trying to _hide_ it from you, George,” Dream promises. “I just… didn’t see a reason to bring it up? Everything’s over now, so what would be the point?”

“How can you say that for sure?” George argues back. “If we don’t know the cause of the loops, who’s to say they won’t suddenly come back?”

Dream blinks, says, “I know the cause of them.”

Oh. “...you do?”

“It’s _my_ deaths,” Dream scratches the back of his head. “Remember? I told you this on the parking garage.”

George _does_ remember. “...right,” he mumbles, unwilling to share his worries that something feels missing. Like there’s a piece to the definition that they’re leaving out. “Dream, do you…” George starts, but his words come to a pause. He’s not sure how to bring up Nightmare, the creature that claimed to be the culmination of Dream’s ‘power’. Not that he thinks about it, Dream was probably right. What would be the point in bringing up more issues if everything was supposedly ‘over’ already? 

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, only offering a weak smile. If Dream thought uselessly bringing up concerns was unnecessary, then it’d only make sense for George to take the same course of action. “I’m sorry for yelling at you, I just… really don’t feel too good. About the news, and… and the fever, too…”

Dream gives George’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he forgives. “I’m sorry too, for making you doubt me. I’ll try to be less… overbearing.”

The day may have started on a weird note, but at this very moment, with an apologetic Dream at his bedside, George is strangely happy. _I was probably all worried over nothing_ , he reckons, shutting his eyes, _Everything_ is _over._

* * *

“I’m gonna head out for a bit, _and_ ,” George stops Dream just before he follows him out the doorway, “you don’t need to come with me.”

“Oh,” Dream blinks, showing a hint of embarrassment. “Just by yourself? You sure?”

“Yes,” George affirms. He wasn’t sick anymore, and he’s been trapped in the house for days now. It made perfectly logical sense that he’d want to go outside for a bit.

“You have your phone on you?” Dream checks, looking nervous.

“Yup.”

“Keys?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask Sapnap—”

“ _Dream_ ,” George emphasizes, interrupting his boyfriend with a chaste kiss. “I’m just going to walk around a little, I’m going to be fine. Trust me, okay?”

“Right… right,” Dream lets out a long, controlled breath. “Yeah, I trust you. Um… have a nice time?”

“I will,” George smiles, proud of Dream for trying his best to keep up his promise. “Bye Dream!”

And a couple minutes later, it’s just George on the sidewalk all by himself, walking to a park about half a mile away. “Hey Nightmare,” George starts when he knows he’s alone, “I know you’re there.”

The hazy apparition of Nightmare obediently appears. It was ironic, almost, that George left Dream behind just to talk to another non-version of him. It seemed no matter where George went, he was always going to be surrounded by Dream.

“Don’t tell me you made up this excuse just to talk to me?” Nightmare grins smugly, and George is mildly irritated at the correct guess. Because of his fever and that episode where he went to Bad’s place without informing Dream, his boyfriend has been more attached to him than usual. It wasn’t that bothersome really, but it left him little to no chances to speak to Nightmare alone.

“Our last conversation was cut short,” George responds, recalling how Dream had interrupted them when he returned from his outside trip to obtain medicine. “Anyway, what is it with you always showing up only when Dream’s away?”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” is Nightmare’s easy reply. “I want to talk to _you_.”

“ _Why?_ ” George mutters in disbelief. Hearing those words in Dream’s voice… ugh. If George didn’t know any better, he’d have thought Nightmare was flirting with him. “What would I have to do to make you go away forever?” 

Nightmare pouts in pretend sadness. “Was my advice not helpful to you?”

“You only made me worried for no reason,” George grumbles.

“Not true,” Nightmare tsks, “I’m making you informed.”

“Some things are better left unknown,” is George’s uncertain reply. “If it unnecessarily complicates things, isn’t the information better off not being told?”

Nightmare looks disappointed. “So you aren’t curious about the reason for the time loops,” he sighs, and George stiffens.

“The reason...?” he echoes, then shakes his head. “You can’t trick me — I already _know_ the cause.”

“What, Dream’s deaths?” Nightmare guesses, a hint of amusement on his expression when George’s eyes widen. “Yeah sure, if that’s what you want to believe.”

George _knows_ Nightmare is baiting him. His sly words, the teasing tone — it was all to get George to fall into some sort of trap. But _what_ trap? “There’s more to it?” George finds himself falling, because the curiosity is getting to him. What more could there possibly be?

“Oh, I thought you said some things are better left unknown...?”

“Not _this_ ,” George insists, clenching his hands. “This could be important. If you know the reason, please… please tell me.”

Nightmare hums thoughtfully, floating upside-down in the air. “Fine, but only because I like you,” he grins mischievously. “Tell me, do you know what Determination is?”

A frown. “Like, the noun? Yeah, I guess.”

“Power rarely manifests itself into a physical form,” Nightmare continues. “Normal people are too weak, but Dream is different, you see? A main character, a contract-former, a determination so strong that it surpasses even barriers between past lives — his power is _overwhelmingly_ strong. Totally off the charts!”

“...so? What does that have to do with the time loops?”

“When power concentrates itself like it did to me,” Nightmare gestures to himself, a smug grin on his face, “We _become_ Determination. And I want you to take a wild guess, George. What do you think Determination does?”

“I— I dunno,” George mumbles. “Maybe it gives good luck? Does it gain the world’s favor?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Nightmare huffs, “Try again.”

George replays Nightmare’s words in his head, and suddenly he gets it. “You’re joking,” he says in disbelief, his heart beating wildly fast, but Nightmare only laughs.

“That’s right,” he giggles, “It’s the power to persist after death! The culmination of Dream’s Determination… I, Nightmare, can turn back time~!”

There’s a beat of silence between them as George processes his words. “That’s stupid,” is George’s first thought. The creature might’ve made George paranoid for a couple hours last time, but George wasn’t keen on letting him get away with it again. “No, it’s _impossible_.”

“How is it _stupid?_ ” Nightmare snorts. “When Dream dies, I’m the entity that rewinds time for him. What’s so _impossible_ about that?”

“But Bad said so himself!” George throws up his hands. “It’s not that easy to just _time travel_ to your heart’s content. It’d like, mess with the universe or whatever.”

“Who cares what _Bad_ says?” Nightmare rolls his eyes. “Is he _god?_ Are his words the absolute law? He’s just a _demon_ , George — he doesn’t know _shit_.”

George flinches, asks, “Then what about _you?_ You’re not god either.”

“Perhaps not,” Nightmare agrees, albeit disappointedly, “But I know far more about this world than some lowly demon would, I can assure you that.”

George isn’t sure what to think. If Nightmare’s words were true, it would mean that this creature in front of him was _incredibly_ powerful. Powerful enough to _turn back time_ , something that even Bad claimed was unthinkable. But why doesn’t George feel more scared? Does he just not believe him?

“Don’t believe me?” Nightmare prompts, as if he had read George’s mind. “I can spill the contents of Dream’s contract too, if you want.”

At that, George becomes very interested (though he tries not to show it). “Really? You know that too?”

“I’m part of Dream’s baggage,” is Nightmare’s reply, “so I kind of know everything about him.”

“You’d tell me about it?” George checks in disbelief. “Just like that? There’s no catch?”

“Sure~” Nightmare shrugs, “I don’t see why not.”

“But…” George falters, “Bad told me I shouldn’t…”

“As long as you keep your lips sealed,” Nightmare reasons, making a zipping motion across his lips. “You can do that, right?”

George knows he shouldn’t ask for it. Bad warned him, Dream had let it go, and knowing wouldn’t change much about their situation. But… the curiosity burns in George’s chest. “I wanna know,” he nods determinedly. “What sort of agreement did they make?”

“It was a simple one, really,” Nightmare puckers his lips in distaste. “In his past life, he had only one wish: that in every following lifetime, you two would reunite and he would live his life with you by his side.”

George feels a hot blush blossom up his neck and across his cheeks. “R-really?” He stutters, feels his insides curl up in warm affection. Imagining the two of them reuniting in different lives, always being there for each other like _soulmates_ … just thinking about it is giving George a huge serotonin boost. “Dream asked for that from Bad?”

“You sound impressed,” Nightmare grumbles, making a grossed-out face, “But it was fuckin’ reckless. And cheesy.”

“Were the terms that bad?” George questions worriedly. “What did Dream have to give up?”

“Basically nothing,” Nightmare rolls his eyes. “Other than losing his memories between lives, which is basically a given anyway. Bad’s a shit demon, as you know. None of his contracts ever have real consequences to them.”

George didn’t really get Nightmare’s deal — it sounded like a _great_ contract. “Then… it was reckless, _how?_ ”

Nightmare snorts. “Contracts aren’t meant to be one-sided, stupid — they need to be _balanced_. Every demon in hell knows that. If the contractors didn’t make any rules on the sacrifices needed, then the world will just end up making the sacrifices happen anyway, without the input of the contractors.”

George swallows. “Did Dream know about this…?”

“I assume he did,” Nightmare replies. “But let’s be real, you think he’d care? He’s not gonna let anything stop him from getting what he wants.”

At that, George has to silently agree: that seemed exactly like something Dream would do. “So the resets,” George realizes, “Him watching me die, needing to save me, finding ways to stop the loops…?”

“All a consequence of the contract,” Nightmare confirms. “No one knows this, of course. Maybe Bad will figure it out soon because of you, but Dream wouldn’t.”

George feels guilty. “He made that contract for _us_ , yet he’s the only one having to deal with all the punishments?”

“Don’t look so upset~” Nightmare coos, “It’s a good deal for you! The contract is what’s keeping you alive, after all. Not much to complain about in that sense, is there?”

George knows Nightmare is right. Even still, the truth of it all leaves an uncomfortable simmering in his gut, threatening to spill over. Maybe he _was_ better off not knowing. Maybe letting Nightmare stay this long was a mistake.

“Why tell me all this?” George finally asks. “What do you want from me?”

George wishes he could read Nightmare‘s expression, but the mask hides it all. “I don’t _want_ anything, George,” is his enigmatic reply. “I just help others achieve what _they_ want.”

* * *

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Dream mumbles.

Now that George’s fever was gone, the two could cuddle to their heart’s content without worrying about George passing on his cold. It had, for sure, been the worst part of being sick: not being able to freely kiss his boyfriend.

George takes advantage of their closeness now, pressing his lips against Dream’s jaw. “Forever?” he echoes.

Dream’s breath hitches a little from George’s advances. “Well, in a metaphorical sense,” he amends upon further thought. “Not like, in a realistic one.”

George understands what Dream meant to say: _Not in a time loop sense_. “Yeah, I get it,” he smiles. If only Dream knew about his own contract, that their fates really _were_ intertwined forever, just in a different way. But he can’t really say anything about it, so he settles for snuggling into Dream’s front. “So as long as you don’t die, it won’t relapse or whatever?”

“Yup.”

“Then shouldn’t you worry more about yourself?” George teases, “Instead of puppy-guarding me all the time?”

“Maybe,” Dream replies, but he doesn’t look too happy about it.

“Have a bit more faith in me,” George mutters, threading their fingers together. It’s a perfect fit, like they belong together. George hopes the sentiment reaches Dream, that the two of them are far too intertwined to ever come apart. “You’re not going to lose me again.”

Dream tilts their faces so their mouths are only centimeters apart. His breath tickles George’s upper lip. “Yeah,” Dream breathes out. “Okay. Okay.”

* * *

After mulling over all the information he’d been given, George went on another adventure outside in order to speak to Nightmare. This time he hadn’t verbally informed Dream of his departure or his location, merely sending a quick text that he was planning on going out. Dream was surprisingly chill about it. For the whole week, he’s actually been much more relaxed about George going out on his own. It was progress for sure, and George was honestly quite proud of his boyfriend.

“I still have more questions for you.”

George is swinging in the park, a simple and mostly quiet location (minus the shouting of kids playing soccer nearby on the grassy field). What mattered was that it effectively served its purpose for George’s private conversations.

Nightmare tugs on his hoodie strings thoughtfully. He’s (thankfully) invisible to people other than George. “Then shoot,” he offers in a bored sort of way.

“Can you rewind time whenever you want?” George asks. “Or only when Dream dies?” This had been on his mind for a while — surely Nightmare couldn’t just launch them back into the loops on a whim, right?

“Neither,” is Nightmare’s surprising answer. “I rewind time when my wielder has the sufficient determination to do so.”

“But, Dream said…?”

“I never said he was _wrong_ — his will to go back in time is simply greatest when _he’s_ dead. Nobody wants to die, after all.” At George’s raised eyebrow, Nightmare grins. “Not looking so heroic anymore, is he? You’d think time rewinds for him when you die, but _nooo_ , all people with power are the same: they only think about themselves.”

“You’re twisting it,” George argues, half-heartedly swinging his legs. “You always do that.”

An innocent shrug. “You asked! I’m just stating the facts.”

“You must want something,” George muses, glancing over his shoulder. He thought he saw something move behind him, but after a second of looking he shrugs it off. “You’ve never showed yourself before until these past few days, and you never let Dream see you despite being _‘his’_ , so… what is it? What am I missing?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple really.”

George raises an eyebrow. “Go on…”

“But the time isn’t right to reveal it,” Nightmare smirks.

“Wow,” George snorts, “So I’m never going to get rid of you?”

A knowing smile grows on Nightmare’s face, and George doesn’t like it one bit. “Believe me,” he says, “You won’t want to.”

Before George can ask what he means, his thoughts are interrupted by the warning shouts of the children on the field. At the slight turn of his head, he sees it but doesn’t have the time to react: a black-and-white blur speeding towards his face at the speed of light.

George tries to cover his face with his hands, grimacing as he tries to prepare himself, his thoughts going _Why is my luck so shit?_ , but all he hears is a _thunk_ and the collision never comes. George peeks out from between his fingers, and when he sees the dirty-blonde man punting the soccer ball back to the kids, he almost mistakes him for Nightmare. He wishes it _was_ Nightmare, because the alternative would mean… 

“ _Dream?!”_ George exclaims, jumping off the swing. Sure enough, it’s Dream standing there, hands awkwardly shoved inside his pockets as he looks to the side in embarrassment. George suddenly remembers how he had felt like someone was watching him, and it all clicks. “You _followed_ me,” he accuses, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

“Sorry,” Dream apologizes, and he _does_ look sorry. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he had _lied_ to George, lied that he would try to be less overbearing. Even after their conversation, _nothing_ had changed. 

“ _How?_ ” George wonders aloud, still very confused. “I never told you where I was! The only way you could’ve…” George hesitates suddenly, recalling how Dream had always insisted he carry his phone on him. “...Dream? Are you tracking my phone?”

There’s no response, but Dream’s pained silence is more than enough of an answer. Suddenly George understands why Dream had been so relaxed about his expeditions — it had never been about _trust,_ no. Rather, Dream had always _known_ where George was. Maybe he’s been following him all the previous times he’s left the house too, and George just never noticed.

“ _Why?_ ” George throws up his arms. He can’t _believe_ Dream would do that to him. “Why did you _follow_ me, when I— I literally _told_ you not to!”

“The— the soccer ball…” Dream attempts weakly.

“It might’ve given me a bloody nose at worst, but I wasn’t gonna _die,_ Dream. Why are you still _babying_ me when everything’s already _over_ , why can’t you just—” George scowls, burying his face into his hands as he lets out a frustrated breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream repeats, his hands wavering inches away, as if he’s afraid he might break George if he touches him, and that only makes George _more_ irritated. “I fucked up, I know, I’m sorry I—”

“Why can’t you _trust_ me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust _you_ ,” Dream gestures helplessly, “I just _worry_ , George, because I _care_ about you—”

“Do you _stalk_ people you care about?” George snaps. “Do you monitor and control everything they do? Is that _caring,_ Dream? Answer me that.”

“I— I don’t have an obsession,” Dream answers, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than George. “I love you. I love you. I would d—” he swallows his words this time, but George knows what was coming next. “You’re my favorite,” is what he says instead. It’s sort of a weird statement, George thinks.

“I thought you moved on from it,” George mutters. “The loops might’ve stopped, but… your head is still stuck in them, isn’t it?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Dream insists, reaching a hand forwards, but George flinches away from it. “I’m fine, I don’t think about it, and when I do it doesn’t bother me, I’m really _fine_ George. I was _joking_ about the PTSD thing, you _know_ that.”

“Yet, you don’t let me go anywhere without you,” is George’s flat response. “You always want to know where I am, and you get paranoid when I’m out of your sight. Is that your definition of being fine, Dream? _Is_ it?”

“It’s just a precaution,” Dream explains hastily, “I’m just being careful, I’m _not_ paranoid, this is—”

“Oh, a _precaution_ ,” George mocks, his irritation with Dream mounting as the lines of their argument mount higher and higher, causing his brain to lose its sense of reasoning. “Are you gonna _precaution_ all the way up to our deaths, Dream? Are you gonna _precaution_ even into our next lives? Is that why you made that contract, so you could _obsess_ over me all the time? _Is it?_ ”

“I’m sorry,” Dream repeats pathetically, like a broken record. “I-I’ll try to be better.”

But George knew better than to trust an empty promise.

* * *

Dream didn’t follow George back to his apartment, and George already misses him.

He can’t help it. Even though Dream is being an idiot and George is supposed to be mad right now, he just can’t hold onto the feeling for more than a couple hours. The previous frustration in his chest has now simmered down into only a regretful throb. No matter what Dream does, George will still want to be close to him, will still feel that pull, will still want _Dream_.

“This sucks,” George speaks to the empty air, and like he was beckoned, Nightmare materializes in front of his eyes. Just looking at him makes George’s heart hurt, knowing that he’s only looking at a fake Dream and not the real one.

“What does?”

“Everything,” George plops onto the couch, shuts his eyes. “I know it’s not his fault. He’s worried about me because of all the time loops, and I know the contract is sort of the cause of all the stuff that’s happened, but… it still sucks.”

George feels the air around him shift. “So if you could’ve prevented the time loops from happening,” Nightmare asks, “Would you?”

“Well, duh. Obviously. Then Dream wouldn’t have to go through seeing me… well, die. And he wouldn’t be paranoid anymore, and we could be normal, and—” George sighs. “It’s pointless thinking about it, anyway.”

“What if I told you it wasn’t?”

George snaps his eyes wide open. “Excuse me?”

“Do you know,” Nightmare smiles, speaking with a lilt, “how much power you have?”

George’s mind is swirling, still not quite comprehending what Nightmare is getting at. “Me?” he repeats in disbelief. “Power?”

“It’s not the same as Dream’s,” Nightmare explains. “Dream has an _aura_ that radiates power, because he’s a main character. But ever since he’s instigated these time loops, the ranks have been… shifting, so to speak. Because every time he repeated that groundhog week,” Nightmare giggles at his coined term, “he did it for _you_. And do you know what that means, George?”

“What… whut does it mean?”

“When the world goes back in time for _one_ person, well,” Nightmare shrugs. “We could say the world _revolves_ around them, right?”

George doesn’t quite agree, but he plays along for the sake of hearing more. “So _what_ if the world revolves around… me?”

“It means that _you_ ,” Nightmare jabs his pointer finger at George’s chest, “can be more powerful than Dream. More powerful than _me_.”

George gulps at the implication. “Powerful enough to… go back in _time?_ ” he mumbles incredulously.

“Congrats,” Nightmare laughs gleefully. “You’ve connected the dots!”

“But how?” George questions, still not quite willing to completely accept it. “That doesn’t make any sense. I don’t have _determination_ or whatever, and I’m not gonna purposefully _kill_ myself anytime soon.”

“You won’t need to do that,” Nightmare reassures. “With your power, you wouldn’t need to. And you don’t need your own determination, either — if your will is strong enough, you can just wield _me_.”

“ _You?_ ” George echoes, appalled at the mere thought. “Why would I team up with _you?_ ”

“Because you’re only a vessel,” Nightmare answers smugly. “A lot of potential, but no actual strength as of yet. If you want to achieve _true_ power, you’re going to have to work with me.”

George has so many questions. The fact that Nightmare just _sprung_ this on him out of nowhere… it was almost like he had known all along, only keeping it a secret until he found the right moment to reveal it. “Don’t tell me,” George mutters, “that this is why you suddenly showed up? To try to get me to accept this… _dumb_ deal?”

“It is _not_ dumb!” Nightmare counters, taking on a childish tone. “I just want to serve under you, George. Look, you said if you could, you’d prevent the time loops from happening, right?”

“That was—” George quickly realizes his mistake. “Well, I meant it in a metaphorical sense. I can’t _actually_ try going back in time, that’d be _crazy_.”

“What’s so crazy about it? _Dream’s_ done it.”

“But he had no _choice_ ,” George argues, standing up. “He did it because he _had_ to, and I… I _don’t_. There’s no dying, we’re together, and everything’s _over_. Why would I reset this, when I’m perfectly happy with it?”

Nightmare raises an eyebrow, asks, “ _Are_ you?” At the prompt, George falls silent. “You can be a little selfish, you know. I told you before, didn’t I? I _help_ others achieve what they want. There’s literally nothing to lose from teaming up with me.”

George bites his lip. “No,” he says. “No, I’m not teaming up with you. I don’t _care_ what you say, because this is my life now. And I’m going to _accept_ it, and work it out with Dream, and I’m _not_ going back in time to solve my problems.”

Nightmare sighs. “Well, if you ever change your mind, my offer still stands.”

“I won’t change my mind,” George assures him, but Nightmare only grins in a sort of unconvinced way, like he knows something George doesn’t. George feels a sudden chill, from the fear that Nightmare might try to do something to change his mind.

“We’ll see,” is all the creature says.

* * *

When George sees a disheveled Dream through his front door’s peephole, he feels a burst of both annoyance and relief. “Hey,” he greets, opening the door. He would’ve liked to not see Dream for a couple more hours at least, but his conversation with Nightmare had increased his desire to smooth things over quickly.

“George,” Dream starts, sounding panicked, “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault you’re—”

“It’s okay,” George interrupts, as patiently as he can in the hopes that he can quell Dream’s angsty-looking state. “I’m sorry too. Come on, we can talk about what happened—”

“It’s not about that,” Dream cuts him short, looking oddly serious as he holds out his phone. George takes it in confusion, and realizes that it’s currently on a call with Bad.

George brings it up to his ear. “H-hello?” 

“ _George!_ ” A breath of relief comes out from the receiver. “Ok _good_ , you’re okay. You should stay next to Dream for the time being, things are sort of hectic right now—”

“What, why?” George narrows his eyes. “Why would I _not_ be okay?”

“The contract,” Bad starts, and George feels a chill crawl down his spine at the mention of it. “I’m really sorry about this George, but the contract, it… half of it’s been broken.”

George feels his insides shrivel upon realizing he might have something to do with it. “Only half?” he echoes in confusion.

“We didn’t cover what would happen if Dream correctly _guessed_ the terms,” Bad explains in a hurry, “and now the reapers are scrambling to take advantage of it before we can get everything settled down—”

“He _guessed_ the terms?” George echoes in disbelief, suddenly recalling the fight they had in the park. George had only _barely_ mentioned parts of what he knew about the contract’s details, and just from that, Dream had been able to figure out what it was?

“You’re in danger right now,” Bad continues. “So stick close to Dream, and I’ll try to send warnings with _Roxanne_ if anything happens.”

“What about the contract?”

“It might take a couple days for me to replace it,” Bad answers. “It’s not exactly like the original, a bit more professional I guess, but it should accomplish what Dream wants—”

“ _Replace_ it?” George echoes in slight horror, looking to Dream. “Did you…?”

“I made another contract,” Dream confirms. “It’s to keep you _safe_ George.”

“Why did you—” the air in George’s lungs feel compressed, too little, not enough. “Why didn’t you ask _me_ to make it with you? What did you ask for? Are we still going to—” _be together in our next lives?_ George almost asks, but he cuts himself off just in time.

“There was no time,” Dream answers, stepping into George’s apartment and closing the front door behind him. George hears the lock go _click_ , and it sends an uneasy crawl down his spine. “Your life is in _danger_ George, and I needed to take action quickly.”

The reality of it all creates a new pool of fear inside of George. “I’m being targeted again,” he mutters in realization, “I might die again.”

And at Dream’s nod it feels like reality is crashing down on him, like everything’s only going in circles once more, and when George recalls Nightmare’s words that everything _wasn’t_ over, thinks about how he claimed George could still go back in time despite all that had happened, George’s palms begin to sweat and he feels himself gulp in realization:

It really wasn’t over yet.


	3. Singularity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What did he give up in return?” George asks worriedly. “Or did he not specify again?”
> 
> “He hasn’t told you?” 
> 
> George shakes his head in response. “No.”
> 
> “I don’t think it’s my place to say…” Bad mutters uncomfortably. “You should ask Dream for that yourself.”

George didn’t think living with Dream could be this awful. But he was wrong.

Dream insists on helping George with all his electronics (though, maybe “helping” was a bit of an understatement here). He charges George’s phone, pulls George’s plugs, operates the washing machine. All sharp objects (including _pencils_ even) have been confiscated from around the apartment, and George isn’t even allowed a foot within his own kitchen. And worst of all, Dream won’t let him go outside.

In truth, it wasn’t _that_ much different from how it was before. Dream is just a little more paranoid than usual (even having formed dark eyebags from restless nights worrying about George), and the biggest difference between before and now was the availability of George’s _choice_ to head outside. Perhaps the reason George was so miserable now was because he could clearly _see_ what was going on, without the haze of the honeymoon phase clouding up his judgement.

But despite this, George still loves Dream. He still clings to his boyfriend and cuddles him to sleep and lets Dream worry over him because he loves Dream, but he’s starting to seriously wonder if the opposite is true. Does Dream even _love_ him? Could it maybe fall under infatuation?

George could hope all he wanted, but he already knew: it was a mania.

What they had, this… _fixation_ with keeping George safe, with making sure he was always in check. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t a relationship. And George _knew_ it, but he couldn’t accept it. 

He didn’t want to admit that Nightmare was right.

Speaking of Nightmare, the creature hasn’t shown himself lately. George knows it’s because he’s stuck in his apartment with Dream all the time, so the apparition doesn’t exactly have any opportune moments to show itself. George needed to talk to someone though, filled to the brim with questions but unable to share them with Dream, so he settles for the second best option.

“Hey Bad?” George calls the demon one day, after receiving Dream’s permission (George had to inform Dream about his _phone calls_ , even). “Any progress on the contract?”

“Maybe about… halfway? I can’t say for certain,” Bad sounds apologetic. “But you guys are doing a good job minimizing the threats, I haven't had to send a single warning yet!”

George knows it’s really all thanks to Dream, but he can’t help but feel a little bitter about it. “Yeah,” he mutters tiredly. “Say Bad, can you tell me what Dream’s new contract is about? Or is it against the terms to talk about it again?”

“Oh, no no, it’s not,” Bad reassures. “Basically, Dream’s new request was that you would be completely safe, George. By the time this one gets through, you won’t have to worry about dying in this life ever again.”

“What did he give up in return?” George asks worriedly. “Or did he not specify again?”

“Or did he not… Wait, what?” A beat of silence. “George? What do you mean, _again?_ ”

“It’s his second time making a contract,” George explains, wondering why Bad sounds so confused.

“But how did you know his first contract didn’t _have_ any specifications?”

George blinks, finally realizes where he’s gone wrong. “I just… it was a lucky guess,” he saves very poorly. “Bad, just answer the question. What did Dream give up?”

“He hasn’t told you?” 

George shakes his head in response, takes a second to realize Bad can’t see him, then answers, “No.”

“I don’t think it’s my place to say…” Bad mutters uncomfortably. “You should ask Dream for that yourself.”

 _Great_ , George thinks to himself, _More secrets._ “Was there nothing else Dream asked for?” George checks. _Nothing like, “let me and George be together in our next life”?_ “Is it a contract _just_ for my safety?”

“Yes, I think so,” Bad answers, and George’s heart sinks upon recalling his conversation with Dream where they wished their moment could last forever.

But he should’ve known: nothing ever lasts forever.

“Can _I_ make a contract?” George attempts hopefully. This timeline may be slightly screwed over, but maybe if George could re-secure the terms of the previous contract, he could look forward to his next lifetime with Dream and hope for a world with significantly less death and mania.

“Sorry George, but you can’t.”

“What?” George blinks, unable to help the disappointment in his voice. “Why not?”

“You’re not, um…” Bad seems uncomfortable explaining it. “There’s a sort of prerequisite to form a contract with a demon and you, uh, don’t quite reach it, George.”

“A prerequisite,” George echoes flatly. “What is it?”

“It’s hard to explain...” George can tell Bad is stalling. “Because contracts are really muffiny to sort out, you know? You need to have the right qualifications in order to make one…”

“Stop tip-toeing around it and just _tell_ me,” George sighs.

“You need to be the main character.”

George snaps his head around, and is shocked to see Nightmare floating by his side. “What?”

“You need to be powerful enough,” Bad’s voice interrupts them, not having heard Nightmare’s voice. “I’m sorry George, but I really don’t know how else to say it. It’s sort of a hard concept to explain.”

“I _am_ powerful enough,” George feels himself blurt, a strange inch of pride glowing in his chest from the truth of it, but Nightmare only shakes his head at George’s claim.

“Not yet,” he says. “Not until you accept _me_.”

“What do you mean?” Bad sounds puzzled by George’s statement.

Holding up two conversations at once was starting to get confusing. “Sorry Bad, but I need to go,” George lies, hanging up on the demon.

“Planning on taking up my offer?” Nightmare teases, but George only waves him off, headed to the kitchen to find Dream. 

He needs to check one last thing before making any final decisions.

* * *

“What did you give up?”

“Hey hey,” Dream warns, pushing George a few inches away from the floor of the kitchen tiles. “Don’t step too close.”

“The kitchen’s not going to _explode_ if I’m not in it,” George reasons.

“Still, just be careful,” Dream cautions. “Anyway, what were you asking?”

“For the contract,” George reiterates, “what did you sacrifice?”

Dream’s eyes widen and his jaw twitches. “Nothing,” he lies, which is ridiculous because he _knows_ George can tell when he’s lying, and yet he _still_ does this to him.

“Why do you still do this?” George asks.

“Do what?”

“Lie.”

At that, Dream mutters something under his breath. George thinks he catches the word “purty”, but he has no idea what it means. “I don’t know,” Dream replies dully. “I guess I got used to it.”

That was a subtle reference to past timelines and George _knew_ it — even if he hadn’t lived through those time loops himself.

“I want to hear it from you,” George eventually says. “I don’t want to grill it from Bad or find out through some other twisted form,” ( _namely Nightmare_ , George thinks to himself). “So please, just tell me.”

At first, Dream doesn’t respond. He only steps forward and wraps George around his waist, resting his chin on George’s head. And the worst part is, George likes it. Despite all the shit that’s happened and all the stuff he’s being put through, George still feels safe and warm in Dream’s embrace. No amount of wrongdoing could cause George to feel any differently, because even if Dream killed a man, even if Dream started to hate him, no matter _what_ … George will always love Dream no matter what.

And that was why it was so important for George to know the answer.

“Dream,” George coaxes, and his boyfriend sighs and says in a whisper:

“I… I gave you up.”

George blinks in shock, wondering if he’s hearing correctly. “What?”

“The sacrifice I made,” Dream mutters, “Was that I could no longer be with you.”

George pushes Dream a short distance away. “What?” he repeats like an idiot, because his brain can’t process what he’s hearing. What the fuck is he hearing?

“It’s better this way,” Dream smiles painfully. “Just look at us — look at _you_. I know being with me isn’t good for your health, George. I know I’m always going to be this way, and I’m never _not_ going to worry about you, and you’ve been living with it because you love me but I— I can’t do this to you, George. I can _see_ what I’m putting you through, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let it keep happening.”

“So you’re just…” George blinks in shock, wondering what the fuck went so horribly wrong for everything to lead to this point. “Once the contract goes through, you’re just going to _leave_ me?”

“I don’t _want_ to—” Dream emphasizes, but George doesn’t believe him.

“Why’re you making these decisions _for_ me? What about what _I_ want?”

Dream’s face constricts with pain as he squeezes George’s wrists. “Just the _thought_ of it,” he admits quietly, “of leaving you, I— I _hate_ it.”

“Then _why_ did you make it?” George nearly screams, “You _said…!_ Y-you _promised_ you weren’t going to leave me, so _why?!_ ”

“It was the only sacrifice they were willing to take,” Dream whispers, “To ensure the safety of your life.”

George is shivering. From anger. From disbelief. From the cold creeping up inside of his lungs. Of _course_ Dream would consider George’s life to be more important than their relationship. Of _course_ Dream would choose to be the guardian angel, instead of being selfish just _once._

 _Protectiveness and love aren’t the same thing,_ George remembers Dream saying so long ago. He never thought he’d see the day where it came true right before his eyes, blooming like a thorny rose.

“Shit,” George mutters. Why do his veins feel so cold? Why does the air around him feel frozen? “Fuck. No. No no no.”

“I’m sorry George,” Dream apologizes, lets go of George’s hands, just like how he's letting go of him. “This is for the best.”

Tears are threatening to spill over. When George runs back to his bedroom, Dream doesn’t stop him, nor does he follow him, but that was probably for the best. Just like George expected, Nightmare is waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on the bed with an expectant expression on his face.

“You ready?” he checks, and George nods.

“Yeah,” he agrees. Just _looking_ at Nightmare, the exact replica of Dream, was making him irrationally angry. _Get it over with now_ , George reasons, _before this fucking nightmare gets any worse_. “Let’s do it. Take me back to… to the very beginning. You can do that, right?”

“Now now, no need to be in such a hurry,” Nightmare chides. “First, you need to give me your hand.”

George complies and Nightmare, by some corporeal-defying logic, manages to hold it. When Nightmare’s lips come into contact with the back of his hand, George feels himself shiver, feels a tingle of energy traveling down his arm. Slowly, Nightmare’s appearance begins to change. The mask disappears and is replaced by familiar white-rimmed sunglasses. 

“It might take a couple tries since you’re new to all this,” the brunet reminds him, his voice a mirror of George’s, “and I’m not going to physically show myself anymore after this, _but._ If you ever need my services, just offer your hand to me again and I'll come.”

“I don’t care how many tries it takes,” George promises, trying not to let Nightmare’s new look bother him that much. “If I’m really as powerful as you say, then I’m going all the way back.” Back to before the near-death accidents. Back to before the time loops. Back to their first, _real_ meeting. 

“You’ll have a lot of history to go through,” Nightmare slightly raises his sunglasses and winks. “But it’s definitely possible, and you can do it — I believe in you.”

The faint sound of Roxanne plays outside the room, quickly followed by the fast thumps of Dream’s approaching footsteps. It’s an irregular rhythm, beating in time to George’s rapid heartbeat.

“Thanks,” George replies, but it’s empty gratitude. “Now get me out of here.”

* * *

“I think that I like you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

George knows where this is, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked the time travel had worked. The sound of Roxanne is blaring in the background of their second party, and Dream has Fundy pressed up against the wall, their faces inches apart. George remembers the jealousy he had felt back then, but even when he stays longer this time and sees Dream initiate the kiss with a stranger, he feels nothing but burning determination.

George holds his arm out horizontally, feels the invisible kiss of Nightmare’s blessing, and his vision fades out.

* * *

George is in his apartment, sitting on his bed. It looks different, wrong almost, with how dirty the floor is littered with his unkempt laundry, the sockets uncovered and sharp scissors lying harmlessly on his desk. George looks down at the phone in his hands and reads the messages he was in the middle of sending.

『 _George_ 』

Are you a wheat field?

『 _Dream_ 』 

?

Seeing the exchange makes George’s heart jolt a little in recognition, but he tries not to think too hard about it. The words _“because I’m stalking you”_ remains unsent as he lifts his arm for Nightmare’s help again.

* * *

“Go inside, before you catch a cold.”

George’s mind is a bit hazy, and despite it being nighttime, he recognizes the front of his apartment door. George tries his best to pinpoint “when” this might be in a timeline, scrambling to grab his keys. “Do you…” he hesitates, “do you wanna come in?” he invites.

Dream looks shocked. “...what?”

 _This must be one of those times Dream took me home early from the first party_ , George realizes faintly. It was probably too early to ask Dream something like that. “N… nevermind,” George mumbles, “See you later?”

“I… yeah.”

When the door closes, George lets out a breath and raises his arm again, the cold press of Nightmare’s kiss sending him into yet another timeline.

* * *

“We’re here,” Dream announces, and George tries his best to orient himself, blinking the cold wind out of his eyes. They’re in a car — Dream’s convertible, George immediately recognizes — but it’s dark and they don’t seem to be headed to the second party. 

“Where is _here?_ ” George asks, confused about their location.

“The best observation deck for miles around,” Dream answers, and suddenly George understands.

“...Did you drive us to a _parking garage?_ ” George echoes, half in incredulity, half in awe. The vehicle is winding circles inside a dark building, and it’s George’s safest assumption. Based on the smug grin on Dream’s face, he also assumes he guessed correctly.

“Yup,” Dream gives a pretty smile, and George feels his heart skip a beat.

“You have a pretty messed up definition for _observation deck_ ,” George mutters, wondering what sort of conversation must’ve happened in this timeline for them to get to this point. Had George wanted to see the stars? Was this a date? Had the two of them already kissed? George had no idea.

“Just wait — you’ll see.”

George _was_ tempted to wait. But he already had a vague understanding of what would happen once they got up there, and he wasn’t exactly rearing to die again, so George resolutely lifts his arm outside the convertible’s side and feels his hand go cold.

* * *

“Because I want to shower my sweet boyfriend with gifts,” Dream says, pressing a kiss to George’s forehead. There’s a bouquet of light-blue flowers in George’s hands, and Dream is standing at his doorway. The scenario is just so affectionate and light-hearted, George feels his cheeks light up red with shyness.

“Well… thank you, I guess,” George mumbles, not really sure what he’s supposed to say since he’s kind of out of the loop on the context of their conversation. “What are they called?” he pops a question randomly.

Thankfully, Dream doesn’t seem to deem any of his actions strange. “Hm… I think it was Smeraldos, or something?”

The flowers remind George of the flowers out in Bad’s front yard, and it gives his heart a nostalgic squirm. “They’re very pretty,” George admits, turning back into the house to look for a vase.

“I knew you’d like them.”

 _Because you know my favorite color?_ George almost asks, but he doesn’t. Instead, he only offers his hand and lets Nightmare take him further back.

* * *

“Okay, maybe I am.”

A song George doesn’t recognize is playing in the background of the party. _Is this the first party, or perhaps a third?_ George wonders to himself, the fuzziness in his brain preventing him from properly diagnosing his situation. He does, however, notice the twitch in Dream’s jaw.

“...do you do this a lot?” George finds himself asking before he can stop himself.

“Do what?”

“Lie.”

Dream frowns. “What do you mean?”

“When you said… purty...” George sighs and shuts his eyes, lifting his arm. He should forget about it — there was no point in thinking about the parallels more than he had to.

* * *

They’re in Dream’s convertible again. It’s daytime too, so there was a possibility they were headed to the second party, though George isn’t sure. _How many more timelines can there possibly be?_ George wonders to himself. _This is already like, the six or seventh one._

“Where are we going?” George asks, just out of curiosity, but Dream only laughs.

“I told you, it’s a surprise Georgie.”

“ _Ew_ ,” George remarks, unamused that Dream still carried on these stupid nicknames in-between timelines. “Stop _calling_ me that.”

“Why?”

Fair question. “It’s… it sounds dumb,” is the only answer George can manage.

“But you make such a funny face when I do it,” Dream sing-songs, and George has to bite back a smile. The sound of _Roxanne_ suddenly permeates the car and George groans at the sound of it emanating from his phone. Godammit.

He needs to get out of here before things get hairy.

“Why is that your ringtone?” Dream mutters, and as George’s vision fades to black, he finds himself wondering for the answer as well. 

* * *

“George,” Sapnap snickers, ringing the doorbell, “There’s no going back now — we’re already here!”

George’s jaw falls open as he blinks at the sight of the entrance to the first party. _No way_ , he finds himself thinking in disbelief. This was it — the very place George stood at the beginning of it all. Or, at least in the beginning of _George’s_ story, but would this be the beginning of Dream’s?

There was only one way to find out.

“I know,” George responds to Sapnap’s exclamation. “Let’s just… let’s just go.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sapnap giggles. The door opens for them and Sapnap is pushing George in, “C’mon!”

George stumbles into the party, his ears already ringing from the noise of the crowd, his brain doing an uncomfortable twist at the level of chaos occurring, but this was nothing new. His eyes frantically scan the attendants, his heart beating in wild anticipation for the wonderful moment that would surely come when his eyes meet with Dream’s—

“Let’s go grab some drinks George, come on!”

“Wait—” George stops Sapnap from pulling him along, his eyes still wildly searching the crowd, “Where’s Dream?”

Sapnap pauses, blinks at George. “Is that like, a brand of alcohol? I’ve never heard of it.”

“ _Sapnap_ ,” George chuckles awkwardly, “That’s not funny, Sapnap.”

“I didn’t _say_ it was funny,” Sapnap raises an eyebrow, looking concerned. “Are you okay, George?”

“Am I—? _Sapnap_ ,” George repeats, the first drips of panic starting to leak into his brain, “ _Dream._ You know, your friend? I know he’s here, but I don’t see him anywhere.”

Sapnap’s frown deepens. “Um…?” A long silence peeters out between them. “Sorry, who? I don’t know anyone called Dream.”

George feels his heart drop into the floor. All previous excitement he had felt from reaching this point is suddenly dissolving away into nothing. “ _Sapnap_ ,” he warns, voice shaky, “stop joking with me. I _said_ it’s not funny.”

Sapnap looks perplexed. “This is so weird,” he comments, “You haven’t drank any alcohol yet, right George?”

“N-no…”

“Then you haven’t been getting enough sleep,” Sapnap concludes, looking worried. “Maybe we _shouldn’t_ have come to this party, George. I think you need some rest — you actually look pretty tired.”

George _does_ feel tired. Maybe it had something to do with using up too much energy, from jumping between so many timelines and resetting such a long stretch of history. To make it worse, now that he’s finally here right where he wants to be, everything is suddenly… _not_ what it’s supposed to be. “I’m so confused,” George mutters, tries, “What date is it?”

Sapnap says the date, and it’s the correct one. The hope that maybe George had simply traveled too far back in time was now void. This was _100%_ the first party, and for some twisted, idiotic reason…

Dream wasn’t here.

Still confused, but hoping that maybe he just hadn’t yet stumbled into the correct timeline, George raises his arm and offers the back of his hand. Nothing happens.

“What are you doing?” Sapnap asks, and George feels a cold chill crawl down his back. They had already reached the end of the line.

What was the point of having all this power, if George couldn’t fix his mistakes? What was the point of any of this, if George couldn’t get to see Dream?

There’s something growing inside him, something dark and twisted, threatening to spill over George’s entire being. “I don’t _want_ this power,” George cries out hopelessly, curling in on himself, “Take it back Nightmare, take it _back_.”

“George?” Sapnap sounds worried. “George, I think we should get you home.”

“I just…” George hadn’t realized until now, but there are teardrops falling down his cheeks. His heart hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it _hurts._ “I just wanted to see Dream,” he whispers pathetically.

Sapnap crouches down and pats George apologetically on the back, offering a concerned frown. “When you get some rest,” he compromises, “you’ll have plenty of them.”

* * *

Interestingly enough, Sapnap hadn’t been wrong.

It had taken a while for George to fall asleep without Dream by his side, but the hollowness eventually consumed him and, when he did descend into his dreams, he was surrounded by the dark flitting images of Dream: kissing him, laughing with him, embracing him, leading him through scenarios he’s never seen before. They pass through his brain like old movie film, flickering and decaying and swarming. _They’re memories_ , George realizes, but he’s not sure how he knew, granted he doesn’t remember any of them himself.

Each dream always ends the same way, with dark tendrils swooping out of the ground and dragging Dream into the floor until he no longer existed.

And when George woke up in a sweat, he’d realize it wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare.

* * *

George went to the only place he knew to go to.

The place looks different, interestingly enough. The willow tree isn’t grey anymore, and the flowers aren’t blue, replaced with white and (what George can only assume is) yellow daffodils. It’s kind of ominous, really.

“Hello?” Bad appears from the doorway, and George lets out a sigh of relief that at least the demon is still here. The changes in the front yard had him worried for a second. “How may I help you?”

“Yeah, um,” George starts tiredly, “Do you, uh, know who I am?”

Bad scrutinizes him for a second. “Um… no?”

“I don’t mean in this life, by the way,” George amends. “I mean in a previous one.”

At that, Bad’s eyebrows shoot straight up. “You…” he fixes his glasses, looking puzzled but intrigued. “Are you a contract-maker? I don’t seem to recall ever forming one with you…”

“I’m not,” George agrees. “But my boyfriend is.”

This only seems to cause further confusion for the poor demon. “You should probably come in,” Bad offers seriously, holding out a hand. “I’m Bad, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” George accepts the handshake, lets himself be guided into the very familiar house. This at least looks the same.

Bad seems happy with the introduction. “Usually people get so confused when I say my name,” he rambles, “they go, _oh? Why do you say you’re bad?_ And I have to go correcting them, like _no no! My_ name _is Bad._ ”

“Sounds tough,” George comments honestly, wondering if should reveal that was his exact reaction to hearing it for the first time. The demon looks happy though, so he keeps it to himself. George perks up at the sight of kitchen ingredients piled up on the counter. “Sorry, did I interrupt you in the middle of something…?”

“I was going to make muffins,” Bad admits, “But it can wait.”

George raises an eyebrow, notes offhandedly, “You don’t have blueberries.”

“Hm?” Bad looks surprised at the topic change. “Yeah?”

“You should consider it, it tastes better,” George suggests. 

“Hm, really? Maybe next time,” Bad compromises, then suddenly perks up. “Sorry, I’m only realizing this now, but I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Oh. I’m George.”

Bad’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” George agrees. “Oh.”

“I didn’t recognize you,” Bad admits, finding himself a stool, and George follows suit. “People look different in every lifetime, so sometimes it’s hard for me to tell from a glance.”

“What about Dream?” George asks hopefully, and to his pleasant surprise, Bad nods.

“He looks different in other lifetimes too, yeah.”

“You’ve seen him?!” George nearly shouts, standing up from his excitement. “Really? Was it recently?”

It takes Bad a moment to process George’s questions. “Wait,” he holds up a hand, “Wait, how do you… know who Dream is?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” is George’s simplest answer.

But Bad doesn’t look like he believes him. “Dream doesn’t _exist_ here.”

At this first real confirmation, George slouches back into his seat in disappointment. “Ah,” he replies quietly. He had thought that was maybe the case, but hadn’t wanted to admit to it, too terrified by that reality to even fathom it. “Shit,” he sighs.

“Language.”

“Sorry,” George apologizes, dragging his hands down his face in frustration. “I just… I’m just so confused. And tired.” He came all this way, just for Dream to not be here. He wonders if Nightmare knew about it, if maybe he purposefully tricked him, but knows he has no way of asking.

“To be fair, I’m confused too,” Bad offers. “How do you know who Dream is if you’ve never met him?”

George avoids answering the question. “ _Did_ you and Dream ever make a contract?” he checks, because at this point it was starting to look unlikely.

“Sort… of?” Bad replies uncertainly. “Well, the straightforward answer is yes.”

“And the not straightforward answer,” George pries, “Could you tell me about it? Please?”

Bad wrings his hands as he talks. “Well, Dream and I _did_ successfully make a contract, but it, uh, didn’t _quite_ make it through.” 

“Why? What happened?”

“The contract was broken between lifetimes,” Bad admits. “I don’t know how. I tried to contact some other devils and figure out what went wrong, but no one really has an answer. They just kept saying that Dream must’ve broken the agreements somehow...”

George awkwardly bites his lip, wondering if he had something to do with this too. Did contracts perhaps transcend time? Once they were broken, did they just stop existing altogether? “So, because he broke the contract,” George summarizes, “he’s not here.”

Bad still looks worried. “How do you _know_ Dream?” he asks again. “Have you made a contract with another demon before?”

George shrugs. “I guess you could say that,” he answers vaguely.

“And the contract let you keep your memories,” Bad guesses, “and now you’re looking for Dream.”

“Yeah.”

“You have some history, don’t you?” Bad tilts his head, and when George raises an eyebrow Bad quickly defends, “Oh, I’m not trying to pry! I just… think you’re a very interesting person, George. You’re very… well, mysterious.”

George hums noncommittally in response. His mind on the topic of contracts, he suddenly gets an idea. “Hey, Bad.”

“Hm?”

“Can _we_ make a contract?”

Bad blinks at him in surprise. “Well, sure,” he agrees, so easily that George half wonders if Bad’s previous denial of him had just been a fluke. “I suppose we could. What would you even want, though?”

There were infinite possibilities, really. George could wish for the power to go forward in time. He could copy Dream’s contract and wish for them to meet in their next life, just hoping for the best. He could even wish to be isekai’d right now, and be reborn in a world with Dream. 

But none of those would quite fulfill George’s purpose. None would let George see Dream, _his_ Dream, right here, right now. George already knew: there was only one answer.

“To restore Dream’s contract,” George answers immediately, the gears turning in his head as he formulates his plan. “Every term listed on it — I want them to all be brought back.”

“Is… that all?” Bad questions, to which George shakes his head.

“I’d like to specify a drawback,” he adds, and Bad nods slowly.

“So you _have_ made a contract before,” Bad notes observantly. “Alright, then. What would you be willing to offer?”

George lets out a long breath. “My memories with Dream.”

A long silence stretches out between them. “ _All_ of them?” Bad asks uncertainly. “Are you sure? Memories are… well, they’re _acceptable_ , but they’re a large price to pay.”

“Then good,” George decides. “I don’t want there to be any side-effects to this contract — if I need to overcompensate to achieve that, then so be it.”

Bad still seems uncertain about George’s choices. “If you sacrifice all of them, you’ll also forget _making_ this contract,” he points out.

“That’s fine,” George replies, his leg jittering from what he’s about to agree to. “Actually, let’s add it as a term. I never want to hear about it again after today.”

“So… let me get this straight,” Bad narrows his eyes. “You will completely erase all your memories with Dream, and in return, you want every term on Dream’s contract to be restored, on the agreement that you never find out about the existence of your own contract.”

“Correct.”

“This doesn’t seem like a good idea,” Bad confesses.

“Why? Is there a problem with it?”

“Well, no…” Bad admits. “The terms are all in good order. It’s just… are you sure about this, George? You don’t have to go through with this.”

“I’m sure,” George confirms quickly, before he can back down from it. “Is there anything I have to sign?”

Bad is looking at him very seriously. “George,” he starts. “This is very significant. Once you agree to this, you know there’s no going back, right?”

“Yes,” George breathes, “I know.”

A tense silence, where Bad appears to be considering George’s answer. “...okay,” Bad finally relents, standing and offering his hand. “All you need to do is shake my hand.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

George stands as well, letting his memories of Dream, the good and the bad ones, flash one more time in his mind. He feels himself tearing up as he clasps his hands with Bad, and unlike the very mild reaction that had occurred when George formed a contract with Nightmare, this time he feels a miniature explosion of pressure build up between their hands before quickly dissipating. 

“Is it in effect now?” George wonders aloud.

“It will be in a couple minutes,” Bad answers, letting go of George’s hand, and George nods. “Wait… what is…?”

Bad’s eyes are wide. George looks where Bad is looking and he does a double-take. Floating next to him is a pitch black swirl of indistinguishable mass, dark blue and purple fumes curling off its form in mysterious shapes. The only recognizable feature of him is the pair of white-rimmed glasses sitting where its head would be.

“George?” Bad takes a step backwards. “Why are there two of you?”

George gives a small smile. “Hey Nightmare,” he greets. “You piece of shit.” It’s a shame he’s only seen Nightmare for what it truly was when it was already too late, but what’s done is done. 

“Nightmare?” Bad echoes. “George, who _is_ that?”

George doesn’t answer, only offers the back of his hand. “This is the last time,” he says. “After this, I never want to see you again.”

George thinks the black mass smiles at him in agreement, but he’s not sure. Nightmare’s form bends over and a tendril of its inky mass suddenly snatches forward, entirely encompassing George’s hand.

“ _George?!”_

George shuts his eyes, waits for it all to end. Because this was the end, wasn’t it? Or perhaps it was the beginning. This was probably what Nightmare wanted all along, but George doesn’t care. This was the design of the loop he created, and what mattered was that he was going to see Dream again. And funnily enough, Dream’s fleeting wish was going to come true too, though not in the way he expected.

At least this way, things really would last forever.

* * *

“I’m starting to have second thoughts about this.”

“George,” Sapnap snickers, ringing the doorbell, “There’s no going back now — we’re already here!”

“I know, but—”

“Don’t be such a wuss!” his friend teases. The door opens for them and Sapnap is pushing George in, “C’mon!”

George stumbles into chaos: loud music blaring in the background, red cups strewn everywhere, half-naked bodies present in every corner of the party. Some are dancing wildly, others appear to be smoking crack, and a few are already knocked out on the couches. The regret is already present, simmering in his gut. George’s eyes distastefully graze past all the attendants, wondering just how Sapnap managed to convince him coming was a good idea, until he locks eyes with someone and he freezes.

Dirty-blonde hair, cute freckles, and eyes with such a piercing blue — George can’t help the embarrassed dust of pink that crawls up his cheeks, and he quickly averts his eyes, suddenly shy that he was caught looking. Holy shit. George’s heart is pounding way too fast at the sight of some stranger he’s never even seen before, but George can’t help it, because _fuck_.

He’s the hottest guy George has ever seen.

Sapnap is still dragging them along, and that’s when George realizes with a flicker of awe (and maybe slight panic) that they’re headed _straight to the guy._

“Yo Dream, there you are!” 

_Dream?_ George thinks faintly, _This is Dream?_ And when he sees how intently Dream is staring at him, his eyes never leaving George’s face, George feels like his head is short-circuiting. Close up, Dream is so much more _beautiful._

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to come to this party after all.

“Hey Sapnap,” Dream greets, his baritone voice nothing short of music to George’s ears. “This the friend you said you were bringing?”

“The one and only,” Sapnap snickers, shoving George forwards and almost causing him to trip (godammit, so embarrassing!). “Dream, meet George. George, say hi to Dream.”

“H-hi,” George mumbles, his eyes bouncing around as he tries (and fails) to find a place to rest his eyes (which he’s starting to realize is nearly impossible, given that literally every inch of Dream is _dazzling_.)

“You like what you see?” Dream teases, and George feels his cheeks blossom bright red without his control.

“U-Uhm…?” George stutters guiltily, shocked that he was so easy to see through, but Dream only laughs good-naturedly, and his eyes are warm as he grins at him.

“I’m just messing with you,” Dream offers a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sapnap's friend.”

“Oh, uh,” George stares at the hand for a couple seconds like an idiot before accepting it. Dream’s hands are large and his fingers perfectly wrap around George’s like a blanket, as if George’s hands belonged there — as if their hands belonged in each other’s. _Like our fates are intertwined._

Just the thought is enough to make George smile. “Nice to meet you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this series to the end, I had so much fun writing it and hearing your guys' feedback, your encouragement meant the world to me and always made me very happy 💕💕💕
> 
> My next fic probably won't be out for a while (I'm actually quite impressed that I managed to write so much for this long lol), but hopefully I'll be back soon with more top-notch stories >:D   
> I'm gonna really miss you guys... wahhhh
> 
> Until then, I wish you happy dreams! Love you all, and stay peppy ✨

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at my [tumblr](https://peppdream.tumblr.com/)~


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